


Stay

by melanie1982



Category: Fingersmith (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Death, F/F, Illness, Other, Sad, imnotcryingyourecrying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 10:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20758952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: Takes place after the events of "Fingersmith."I don't own Maud, Susan, or the other characters of Sarah Waters' creation. I did create a few minor characters for this fic.I make no money from this work of fiction.TRIGGER WARNING: Incidences of murder and suicide





	1. Chapter 1

For children growing up in Lant Street, girls in particular, a happy ending was a rare thing. Best you could hope for was a quick death in a warm bed and on a full stomach. Most weren't that lucky, though.

Of all the girls I'd known growing up, I became the one to envy. Who woulda thought that little Sue Trinder would find herself in a country house, spending year after year with the one she loved? 

Despite some.. unpleasantness at the beginning, which you've heard about before, it was a good life. I mean, the second half of it. More than half, really.

She'd shown me what life could be, not having to scrape and scheme, not having to wait endlessly for the hand to come down on your shoulder, signaling the end of freedom - or worse.

It was a queer arrangement, what we had, but it was good. Not sure what church folk would make of it, but there were never any about to ask, were there?

Maud moved me from a life in which the only thing certain was the hand in front of your face, a life where tomorrow was not a promise, but a chance, to a life where the days all sort of melted into one another, and there was no need to wonder about the future, because it would most likely be the same as the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that one. Age sort of crept up on us, scurrying along the skirting boards of our lives and nibbling a bit more each day, until the holes were so big that we bothered to notice.

Maud had never been vain, but she had been very scrupulous about her appearance, always wanting it to be tidy and smart. Over time, she'd begun to frown at what she saw in the glass, but not me. I barely noticed the changes: the way her cheeks sagged a bit, or the way her hair started to change to a wiry gray, gradually, the way frost inches over the lawn. Soon it was covered in it - her hair, I mean. The grayness. Mine wasn't far off.

But she was still Maud, and I was still Sue, and, well, that was alright then. The only ones to see us were the housekeeper and the steward, and they were older than us by donkey's ages.

I remember Maud's reaction when Mr. Wade finally pegged it. You'd've been forgiven for thinking he was kin, the way she shed tears for the old man. I suppose it was a lot of things. He'd never been unkind to her, and he hadn't much liked her - my - uncle. Maybe it was her chance to finally let it out, all the tears from all the things she'd been through. We buried him by my mother, so they wouldn't be alone. The Mrs. wasn't long after, so now there were three, all lined up neatly. Maud liked to tend the graves; I think it gave her something to do, some way to make it better in her own mind. She'd still cry, but no sobs.

I remember the first time it struck me, how much Maud looked like her mother. You'd think that'd be strange, that I'd shy away from touching her, or even that I'd be angry - but no. It made me love her all the more. To see that dear face, alive, and still attached to a healthy, unbroken neck!.. It did my heart good. Reckon somewheres the real Mrs. Sucksby woulda laughed at us, but not in a mean sort of way.

It was then that I started to notice we were old, older than I'd ever dreamt of being. 

After hiring a new housemaid and a younger steward, we settled back down to our normal routine. Eventually, it felt as if this was the way the house had always been, if you could forget about the graves on the property. Just me, Maud, Nelly, and Daniel.

Trouble is, nothing stays the same, does it? Can't stop time; it marches on, and you either file in, or it tramples on you.

I wasn't ready for it, but life at Briar was about to change forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why am I doing this to myself? Why do I need closure?
> 
> Sigh.

At first, it was little things: Maud squinting at the words in front of her, mistaking one letter for another, or leaving an ink smudge in the margin. We dug out some of Uncle's old reading specs, polished them right up, and made do. It helped for a while, but soon even the thickest lenses didn't help her see straight. I began to go over her lettering, poor secretary though I was, I'm sure, to find her mistakes before sending the stories in the post. The publishers didn't expect perfection - they were more concerned with speed - but it bothered Maud, and that meant that it bothered me.

Soon there were other problems: a misplaced glove, or Maud struggling to come up with a word; losing track of the time, or calling Nelly or Daniel by the wrong name. She said it was the strain, and it may have been, to a point - but soon she took to staring off into nothing for ages, her eyes glazed and unseeing. I'd take her her lunch, and find that she hadn't written a single line in an hour or more. I'd seen that far-off look before, and it made me think Maud was giving up.

We couldn't ask anyone to help us, lest word get out what sort of stories she was writing. Besides, Nelly couldn't read a lick, and Daniel was only taught sums and his own name. Sometimes I wonder if that's for the best, if we should just let books sit in museums, unread. At any rate, a few weeks after Maud started having trouble with her work, the headaches began. The only remedy seemed to be total darkness and absolute silence; a few hours of that, and she'd start to come round. My poor Maud would sweat like a breaking fever, shiver for a bit, and then the color, slight as it was, would come back to her cheeks. There was no cough, no nastiness coming out of anywhere, so it didn't seem worth bothering a doctor. Besides, we'd each of us had enough of having our heads examined, and were convinced that any headache would be preferable to the 'cure.'

I helped as best I could, letting her dictate while I scribbled page after page in my shaky, child-like script which hadn't much improved over the years of practice. Some say it must be taught at a young age, that lessons are more likely to take if given early in life, and I'm a good argument for that. The headaches got worse; the stories, shorter and less scandalous, and soon, we were lucky to sell four in a month. 

As winter settled in, we had to take stock of our resources. Nelly was a strong young girl, built a bit like old Dainty, and it was decided that Daniel would have to be sent off for greener pastures. I gave him a month's wages as a sweetener, and he didn't gripe much, though I think Nelly was a tad heartsick without him near.

Now it was three of us, all women, two of us old. We tried to get on, but one morning I found Maud at the bottom of the stairs, and I knew we needed a change. The downstairs was kitted out for us, Nelly helping me move mine and Maud's things into the parlor so we could sleep there. Maud wasn't too badly off - just a few nasty bruises - but when I thought of what could've.. Well, I couldn't risk it, could I? She'd only fallen on the last few steps, but there were so many..

It was Christmas, though we never decked the halls at Briar. Maud had had a headache for days, and although I wasn't the keenest reader, I knew enough to puzzle out the letters from fed-up publishers. The stories we sent were too little, too tame, too decent, and too late. Maud's career, her purpose, as she saw it, was finished. 

I still had my purpose, though. My purpose was to take care of her, to never again leave her side. 

I told her none of this. I hid the letters; then, realizing we may as well get good use out of bad news, I used them as kindling to make up a cozy fire in our new room on the ground floor.

Maud's pain lifted, but this time, something was different. Some part of her had gone, and I felt somehow that it would never come back to me. When she shivered, I did, too, like someone had just stepped over my grave.

"Sue?"

"Yes?"

"How long.. How long was I asleep?"

"A day," I lied. 

She looked concerned then. "Uncle must be furious." Maud tried to sit up, but in a flash, my hand pushed her chest back down, probably too firmly.

"Uncle?"

Maud blinked slowly. "No. Not.. That's not right. YOUR uncle. Not mine.."

I wasn't sure what to say. This was a funny turn. "He's nobody's uncle. He's dead."

Her face seemed to relax then. "Yes. Yes, I.. I'm glad of it."

"As am I. Shall I get you something? Tea? Bit of broth?"

"Yes, please, Susan. You are.. You are good to me."

I smiled, willing my rickety knees not to fail me now as I rose to fetch her heart's desire. As I crossed the threshold, I heard her mumble, almost to herself, 

"You've always been my favorite maid."

I nearly tripped over my own foot, so jarring were her words. 

Her maid?

I hadn't been her maid in decades, and, had she offered to pay me for my.. services, I'd've been far lower than a maid, that I can tell you. Lant Street had plenty of names for that sort of 'servant,' and I won't put any of them to paper here.

I decided not to correct Maud. Clearly, she just needed a little time to come round; she'd thought Uncle was still alive, for God's sake. A cup of tea and some soup, and she'd soon be put to rights.

But that's not what happened. Oh, no. Not a bit of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

I kept the door closed most days after that. Nelly knew what was expected, and she knew she'd better see to her tasks if she wanted paying - although, really, it didn't seem to matter one way or the other anymore.

There were to be no visitors, and all letters from London were to be used as kindling, unopened, unread, full stop.

I only hoped the money would hold out just long enough; I knew from seeing it first hand that starvation was a horrid way to die.

Maud's dreams became frightful, her voice sounding so much younger as she pled for the spooks of the madhouse to leave her alone. Once, she had a sort of fit, thrashing about and screaming at her invisible Uncle, until I had to climb onto her body to restrain her before she hurt herself. It had been so many years since Maud had needed drops, and I wasn't even certain whether they'd have turned useless - or become poison.

During her waking times, and after her bad dreams, I'd stroke her hair and tell her stories. She wanted to know all about me, about my growing-up years, what we did for fun, that sort of thing. I did have a few happy memories, though tainted by hindsight - and when we'd run through all of those, I made some up. They were good lies; a few times I got quite caught up in them, and felt I was a lucky little urchin to have such adventures.

I was never sure what humour Maud would be in, but one thing remained steady: She always referred to me as her maid.

It was almost like it replaced 'I love you.' 

"You're a good girl, Susan." "You're my best maid, Sue." "Suki, what would I do without you?"

I learned to take it on the chin, knowing she wasn't right in her own mind, knowing she meant it in the best way she could.

It still stung a bit, though.

I tried to help her keep up her strength - walks around the room, stretches, things like that. I even had a bath moved into the chamber, but soon it was too much effort for us both just keeping her clean. A warm, wet cloth worked just as well, and Maud preferred it, I think. If she ever felt any odd stirrings while I rubbed and scrubbed, she never said.

As I finished with her bed-bath one night, Maud stopped me with a hand on my arm. I felt perhaps she had remembered me, remembered what I was - am - to her.

Instead, she shocked me.

"Sue.. Did I.. Did I ever kill a man?"

It was difficult to keep my eyes on hers. I thought my heart would give out, and I worried she'd be pinned in the bed by my weight until Nelly found me and rolled me off her. 

I had to think quick, keep my wits about me.

"You, miss? Kill a man? Well, that's the first I ever heard of it."

Maud went on, telling me about some dream she'd had in which a gentleman was about to tell me some terrible secret which would ruin me, and how she'd stopped him with a quick blade to the gut. I laughed good-naturedly and went along with the joke, but the whole thing left me uneasy.

In a moment of irrational fear, I instructed Nelly to only serve us foods which didn't require knives. 

In a matter of a fortnight, the larder was nearly bare. Maud slept longer and longer, and I kept a mirror by the bedside, just to check.... well, it's been done through the ages, hasn't it? 

Maud was often uneasy, but always better for seeing me, her faithful maid. She told me bits of her childhood - true or not, I've no idea - and of how she wished she could've found me sooner, so we'd've had more time together.

I knew the time had come to make more changes. Nelly had to go.

I ventured out to find her on a Friday evening, as I'd already taken to giving her Saturdays and Sundays off. Nelly's eyes grew wide as she saw the bundle of notes - our last in the house. I placed it into her hand, closing her gloved fingers round it. They were working gloves, not fine things like Maud's; they were stiff and coarse, and my old skin bristled at the feel of them.

"Mind you don't let anyone see how much it is," I warned. "You understand, Nell, that you won't be back again?"

She nodded, though fat tears wobbled in the corners of her eyes as she moved. She stared at me, then at the dosh, then at me again. I could tell she needed a push.

"Go on. Get aht. There's a good girl," I chided softly. After all her griping about ghosts and drafts and terrors in the night at Briar, the poor sentimental creature didn't want to leave us.

The money could keep an able-bodied girl decent for six months, and keep that same girl alive but hungry for a year if she wasn't too particular about her lodgings. On the other hand, a fool could have it gone in a fortnight. Nothing to be done about it, though; fortune is a fickle mistress.

As I locked the door behind her and watched her plump form waddle like a duck down the snowy road, I realized that Nelly was the last person who would see either Maud or myself alive. I wondered what sort of stories people would concoct about us, and whether any of them would be worth printing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waaaaah

Days were simple, muffled by snow outside and cozy feather quilts within. I rationed out the food, taking to bed more and more, partly because I had to, but mostly because I wanted to be near her. I showed her my love by tending to her, and she showed me her love by thanking me for being a good maid.

How much she'd forgotten.

I suppose some would say it was romantic, us finishing up much the way we began. I didn't have much cause to read romances, and nobody ever asked Maud to write one.

I think her body knew what her mind did not, as Maud became more needy as time went on.

"You will stay with me, won't you Sue? You won't leave me, like the others?"

"Yes, miss. I will stay."

We had that same exchange, or one like it, dozens of times a day, and it was sweet torture.

I love you.

I always have.

I will stay.

The last day was different. I woke feeling like something important was about to happen, and I was right. Maud looked at me, already awake, and her face was the picture of health.

Some call it 'the last rally,' when a body uses all its remaining strength to have one final good day. I didn't want to waste a moment of it.

"Was I.. a kind mistress?"

"Oh, yes, miss. You was always giving me the crusts from your lunch, and your good dresses.. You helped me learn to read, and even to write a bit. Don't you remember?"

The morning passed in chatter, Maud full of questions, her mind now almost nothing but blank pages for me to fill. How she must have loved me, I thought, to remember me, when so many people and places had slipped out through that sieve.

I left the room long enough to make us each a hot drink, setting the tray between us on the bed. I was tired, but Maud was still going; the tea would help remedy that, even us out.

She looked at me for a long time, searching my face for something.

"Were we happy, Sue?"

I kept my hand steady, spooned the honey into her tea to mask the taste. "Yes, miss. We were thick as thieves and happy as larks."

This seemed to please her, and she took the cup in her hands, a slight splash escaping and staining her glove. Maud didn't notice, or perhaps no longer cared.

It was true, what I said. Not perfect, but happy. It was more than I deserved, and at the time when I most wanted, no, needed, to be able to tell her so, I faltered.

"I do love you, Susan. I want you with me, always."

I took a sip to strengthen myself. "Of course. Where else would I go? This is my favourite place in the world."

Maud yawned, and I set the tea on the nightstand next to mine before thinking better of it. Casually, as if I'd practiced for it all my life, I gave the little table a nudge, tipping the contents of both cups. I heard them seeping into the carpet, the carpet which would no doubt be replaced one day soon.

We had no heirs, of course. Well, two women can't make a baby, can they? Maud had once asked me whether, if it were possible, I'd want a child. I'd told her that she was more than enough for me, that the two of us could do better on our own without another person to worry about, and how I'd seen what perils life could throw at a helpless baby. I supposed in that moment that it was for the best, not having to leave anyone behind, and I was sure of it now.

"Are you afraid, Sue?"

I turned to her, helped her settle down into the pillows. "Afraid, miss? Of what?"

She tried to focus her eyes on my face, that comforting, familiar thing. "Death."

So she knew, then, or suspected. "No. Not like this. I'd always been afraid of starving to death, or of ending up in the river; I thought those were the worst ones, all puffed up and blue-gray.. Better to just go to sleep one day."

Maud's eyes shone with love and trust. "Yes. Sleep." Her hand shuffled through the bedclothes, finding mine, bringing it to her lips for a kiss. I left it there; I loved holding her hand.

"I'm sorry for - "

"Don't," I cut her off. "No regrets."

She nodded, drifting. "No. You understand. You've always taken me as I am."

I felt the warmth of her, the weight of her form keeping me grounded. It was perfect, the way each mirrored the other. I hoped we wouldn't twitch about too much, spoil the effect.

"Susan..?," she mumbled sleepily.

"I'm here. I'm right here."

Her breathing was the only sound, her heartbeat the only movement. It was a clock winding down, and my own gears were sluggish now. I wanted her to go first, so she wouldn't have to be without me, even for a moment.

I dozed for a bit, and when I came to, I heard it - one final whoosh, and the sound stopped. Her chest was still. I watched, waiting, but it would rise no more.

My lips brushed her temple, tickled by the gray. My whispers filled her perfect shell of an ear, of how I'd wanted her, of how I'd loved her. 

I thought of the crude pages I'd written in the final days, telling of who we'd been, wondering who would understand or even care. I'd never read it to her, because, well, that would've spoiled the ending. 

Maud deserved the happy ending of a princess, lost in sweet dreams for all time.

She was happy, there, with me, Susan Trinder, fingersmith, ladies' maid, madhouse fugitive, lover, friend. Because she was happy, I was, too.

And as I let out a last long sigh, I knew: together and happy we would stay.


End file.
